The 40,000th Effect
by InquisitorMarek
Summary: 3rd Installment- Times, Trials and Tribulations of Marcus Thol. Things have gone to the ass end of a grox for Kill Team Smurf. Trapped on a Kroot transport with no way out, they decide to finish the mission. But higher powers have bigger plans. A favor from one deity to another has given them new life. {Updated 06/28/15}
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The Warp. To the many inhabitants of the Milky Way galaxy, the Warp is different things.

To the untainted humans, it is a begrudging coexistence; the hellish domain is the sanctuary of the damned, spawn place of heresy, mutation, and also the only reliable means of travel from point A to point B. So while there may be a few cases of a-sploding heads during Warp travel, and maybe a few errant demons to space out an air lock after a holy bolter shell or twenty goes through what passes for its face, it is a small price to pay for interstellar travel. Oh, and time travel. Don't forget time travel. Lots of fucky shit in the Warp. Dangerous to humans.

To the Tau, it is merely something to hope ravages the enemy, for the Greater Good has shielded them from the horrors of it, (and removed their souls in the process, filthy xenos).

To the Orks, well...no one's really sure what they collectively think of the Warp, or if they think of the Warp at all. Any one that has gone to ask has never come back. Thus, attempts to ask the Orks for their input to this entry has been diverted elsewhere.

To the Necrons, we've decided to group them in with the Orks, as they don't really speak. Ever. Not even Yo-Mama jokes provoke them into speaking. Then there's the whole thing with them flaying people alive with their weaponry. Yeah, their input is forfeit as well.

To the Space Elv-...er I mean Eldar, the Warp is mostly a curse, still being stingy about causing the whole ruckus in the first place back in the 25th millennium (Human Calendar) having literally fucked each other so hard that in one intense orgasm, gave birth to the God of Debauchery, Slaanesh. And they're still grouchy about it, and now that mankind is paying the price for it, they're still aloof of our petty troubles. Lazy xenos.

To the Dark Eldar, the Warp is...well, for the most part, they hate the warp with the same abandon that the regular Eldar do, just that they handle their frustrations by being sadistic, cowardly pirates.

To the Tyrannids...yeah, another group like the Orks and Necrons. My investigative team has refused to attempt contact, stating they already got flayed by Necrons, and almost WAAAAGH'd to death by the Orks. And thus, playing 'Nid bait for a few opinions from creatures whose most intelligent response to date is a roar before biting off your head, wasn't high on their list of things to do before the end of the month. (Such lack of opinion was later confirmed after I disposed of my team and acquired another one.)

To the traitorous sons of bitches that make up the Traitor Legions, no doubt the Warp is a heaven for whatever hell they prefer, be it debauchery, decay, death, or being constantly mind-fucked.

~ Exerpt from _Studies on the Warp, _pages 897-898, Volume III, notable radical Inquisitor Feorn Persus, Ordo Xenos

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258.998.M41

While his mortal form sat upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor of Mankind's consciousness was ever patrolling, ever vigilant in plugging holes in the Warp that his traitorous sons tore, that most of the tide might be staved off while humanity can rebuild, or try to rebuild. And as such, while patrolling, there are infinitely large lapses in between psychic engagements (If one is fast enough or powerful enough), in of which, a deity from another universe came a knocking.

He was calmly observing the Crusade launched by the Black Templars to the planet of Armageddon, one of his most reverent and wholly zealous gatherings of unruly grandsons he'd ever seen, when the diety made his presence known.

"Ahh...Jesus, isn't it?" he asked, conjuring up a little more appropriate setting for them to be meeting, like his throne room on Terra.

The white robed Messiah bowed a little in polite greeting, "Kemal, good to see you again. You're looking..." he looked at the Emperor's decayed form sitting on the Golden Throne then back to the psychic manifestation "Well preserved for the times, my friend."

"Why thank you. How's the ribcage?" the Emperor jested back. In response the Prince of Peace stretched to one side a little, groaning.

"Still not quite healed. That guy had one hell of a sharp sword, let me tell you," he said. The Emperor nodded, knowing there was more to the small deity's presence than just friendly banter.

"So what brings you here?" the Emperor asked, getting directly to the heart of the matter.

"Well...alright. I screwed up. I was imprinting this galaxy right, another one with humans in it," the Emperor nodded accordingly, "And then this bird thing comes over and asks if I want some help. Since it'd speed up the process, I say 'Sure, why not?' being Prince of Peace and all. Well, turns out that bird created this race of machines that recycles all organic life every 50,000 years or so. Sound familliar?"

"A tad familiar. It's beginning to sound like you got Tzeentch'd," the Emperor said offhand. The mental ear-to-ear smirk not evident in his voice. "Go on."

"So then I try to create heroes and stop this, but it's just not working. All of my heroes end up dead and the cycle continues. Well, now humanity is reaching out wards from Earth, and it should be linking up with the rest of the races...now. And I need a hero, because I already got a glimpse of the hero I chose, this guy named Shepard, Commander Michael Shepard, Alliance fleet, he dies before the cycle is stopped. So...I'm gonna need a hero. Got a one or two to spare?"

The Emperor thought for a (fraction of a) moment. Heroes he had in abundant supply. Each one of his Astartes could easily take on the challenge and come out victorious. But...maybe. Why stop at just saving that universe if Tzeentch has it's claws in it? The Messiah would be back, asking for more heroes. And he'd have to send more and more. But why not just avoid that altogether? Could it work? Just maybe. Maybe this'll work. The chances are slim, but that's what his advisors told him before he created the Astartes. It'll work. The hero would have to have plenty of starting capital and have an open enough mind to survive the transition. After scanning the souls waiting to be born, he knew just the person to send.

"Alright. I've got a few to spare. I'll send them when I can, but what's my deadline?" he asked.

"Deadline...?Oh, right. It's 26 years from today is when Shepard will depart on his fatal mission. Try to not cut it too close. I've put a lot of work into this universe, and my Father's already mad at me as is. Still thinks I'm a rebellious teenager. Can you believe it?"

"Yeah. I can. You got Tzeentch'd after all," the Emperor said with a smile, "No problem. I'll send him before Shepard leaves for the mission. 25 years, 51 weeks. Alright?"

"Alright. Thanks man. I owe you. Big time," Jesus said with relief. The Emperor nodded slowly.

"Say, if you want to get rid of your debt right now, I've got this bastard of a Black Crusade in the making at the Cadian Gate. If you'd be so kind as to clear that up with a few miracles and genius moves, I'd consider us even." The Emperor smiled his kissing babies face (when he did kiss babies, eons ago). He could tell it worked on one of the kindest deities in existence. In fact, he knew it would. It had in the past.

"Cool. Shouldn't be too much trouble..." Jesus muttered to himself and left for the Cadian Gate. The Emperor smiled smugly. Yes. He knew just the person to send. It was high time for him to prove himself.

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++Thought for the day: Success is measure in blood. Yours, or your enemy's++


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251.024.M42 _Pius Renegade, _modified_ Dauntless_-class Light Cruiser, Personal ship of Acolyte Marcus Thol. The Acolyte's personal quarters.

Marcus groaned as he realized what he was looking at. His search had brought him full circle, and now he was back where he had started amidst the mountains of ancient tomes that were piled strategically and more or less by subject around and on top of his desk. He let his head thump on the hardwood desk, trying to wipe the fatigue from his eyes as he mentally backtracked to find out where he had gone astray.

"Must have been somewhere...around..." he glanced at the titles of the tomes, reviewing the train of thought. Suddenly, that train derailed, fell off a bridge and exploded as the intercom chimed.

"Inquisitor, a matter needing your attention has come up. I'm on the bridge," Lady Captain Ennis Perra called.

A matter needing his attention? There was very little that Perra couldn't handle on her own, up to and including a surprise attack by a Chaos warband. _That_ was an interesting breakfast conversation.

So with due diligence to whatever he might face, Marcus grabbed his weapons belt and duster from the hanger next to his desk and threw them on as he made his way through the well-lit passageways of the _Renegade_.

That was another thing that separated Perra from the rest of the Imperial Navy Captains he'd met. Perra insisted on the best quality lighting everywhere on the ship, and for the entire ship to be catalogued, explored and patrolled on a near constant basis. As Marcus passed a fireteam of Guardsmen, they saluted. From their direction, Marcus presumed they had been at the bridge shortly before, or just after Perra made her call. _They'd know something._

"Corporal, did the Lady Captain seemed bothered by anything when you were last at the bridge?" he asked as he returned the salute.

"No sir. An orderly came in and was whispering into her ear when we left," was the reply.

"Hmm..." Marcus paused as possibilities rolled through his head.

"May I ask why, Acolyte?" the Guardsman asked hesitantly. Marcus' lips tugged into a glimmer of a smile. This was one of the _original_ Rangers.

"You may, but you know the saying. Ask no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," Marcus said, "All the same, get another fire team to pick up the patrols and follow me."

"Right away sir!" the Corporal snapped a salute before switching on his vox bead and falling in behind the Acolyte as he continued to the bridge.

888

Meanwhile. _Pius Renegade_ Command Deck.

Lady Captain Ennis Perra was having a good day. Past-tense. It was another day in the Marterium, and out of the Immaterium. Her dreams were better, her crew wasn't under demonic threat, and if the Gellar field failed, the worst thing to happen would be the Magos getting an ass chewing from the Inquisitor.

But...not after this distress signal came through a week ago. They'd been meandering through the desolate system when a faint distress beacon was found. Perra sent down three platoons to investigate with plenty of air support should the grox-shit hit the wall. That was five days ago.

What they were expecting, only the Emperor knows, but the Lieutenant in charge of the mission reported the presence of additional Sisters of Battle. Militant nuns, the Acolyte had called them after first hearing about them. Perra sighed. The boy still had much to learn. Almost too much.

The Sisters found so far were wearing vestments of the Sacred Rose, one of the Orders Militant within the Adepta Sororitas, the military arm of the Ecclisarchy, but none were alive upon investigation, save this one. She was found deep within a wrecked _Cobra_-class escort that had been converted into a Sororitas armed transport. This much was reported via the vox array they were able to reactivate, if only temporarily. Currently, the medics were working to stabilize her on the flight up while others scouted for any additional clues among the wreckage.

She mulled over her decision to alert the Inquisitor. Her instincts had warranted against it, but her honored position as a Lady Captain in the service to Lady Veil and her senior Acolyte demanded it. Hopefully he won't be too distracted..again. She took another dreg from the cheap amseac that was in the chiller beside her command throne for just such circumstances. She was getting jittery again.

888

Ten minutes later. _Pius Renegade_ Command Deck.

Thol marched into the command deck to find the Lady Captain sealing the lid on her booze cooler. Well, that's what he called it. She called it something ridiculous and about three times longer. Ah, but that was the Imperial way. High Gothic for everyone! he let a smile cross his lips for a brief moment. The Lady Captain noticed. As he had expected. The woman was sharp, despite her century and a half experience in command of the _Renegade_.

"Something amusing, Acolyte?" she purred, smooth as the liquor she was drinking.

"Not a thing, Lady Captain. Sitrep?"

She took a breath before standing and marching over to the massive holo tank mounted on a dais overlooking the port side of the lower level of the command bridge. "The planet we're currently orbiting, Kraxus II, is the site of an Imperial voidship crash. Adepta Sororitas designation. Order of the Sacred Rose. Only one confirmed survivor at the moment, and she is in transit as we speak."

"Any hostile contacts?"

"None. Lieutenant Sterling was quite amazed at it. As am I."

"But...?" he prodded.

"But while I may be amazed that we had no hostile contact, I still have two wings of Vultures on station overhead with Marauders and Thunderbolts hot bunking."

"Good, good. How many on the ground?"

"Three platoons, led by Sterling and two recon teams scouting the perimeter of the crash site under command of Staff Sergeant Miles."

"Very good. Is the _Retribution_ ready?"

"Aye. Lt. Testerossa has prepped it and awaits your orders."

"Tell her to keep the engines ready," he said to Perra before looking back at one of the Rangers that had followed him to the bridge. "Alert Watch-Captain Havelock as well."

"Right away, m'lord!" the trooper snapped a salute before scurrying off to the nearest vox station and calling out the orders.

"Why are you alerting the Kill-Team?" Perra asked.

"Insurance," Marcus replied as the hololith finally lit up, displaying several real-time feeds from pict-capturers on the hulls of the over head Vultures. "There is no kill like overkill."

Several minutes passed before Marcus made another noise. "Hmm..."

"See anything wrong, Acolyte?"

"Nope, nothing wrong here," he said distantly, still studying the feeds. "Just wondering what a Sororitas Convent ship is doing this far out from Zeifen, and admiring the effort the Rangers have been putting into training. Almost like they'd done this sort of thing once or twice before."

Marcus knew Perra was inspecting him and the smug knowing grin he wore. He also knew that she'd been confused by his joke. Only she didn't see it as a joke. No, there was a decidedly negative emotional vibe that Marcus could see emanating from her as he opened his psyker's eye to the Warp ever so slightly.

"Relax, Captain. I'm not going anywhere. But if things turn south, I want quick egress for the Kill Team. "

"There's already two more flights of Vultures on overwatch and three Valkyries ready to grab them," Perra reported, still not sure what the Acolyte was getting at. The Rangers behind him stiffened. Not a lot of people get to second guess a member of the Inquisition. Fortunately, Marcus regarded Perra as an instructor rather than the nuisance most Inquisitional Acolytes viewed Naval Captains as.

"Good. Like I said. Overkill. Gotta make sure shit stays dead around here."

"To what are you referring to, m'lord?" she asked, hating how easily she called him lord.

"Something from a long time ago," he said before turning to the Guardsmen behind him, "So tell me gentlemen. How does Dominatus fare these days?"

"They've settled into the routine well enough, m'lord. The Commander is still quite unruly," the Corporal said easily. Thol looked harder at him for a moment.

"I remember you from the initial briefing. Weren't you one of the newbies from the-" he sniggered "chair-borne unit we requisitioned?"

"I was damned proud to get my wings, _thank you_ very much," the Corporal retorted, "And it wasn't the nicest of things for you to just up and snatch us."

"Agreed. But you weren't the only one. And since then, how many times has each Ranger proven themselves a match for any other Guardsman?"

"Every engagement we fought in, Acolyte," the Corporal said proudly.

"Damn straight you did. You're about as useful as the Elysians."

"Those were those hard asses who taught us shit we already knew, right?"

"Yeah, the ones in the tan uniforms."

"Fuck, they were nasty bastards," the Corporal grimaced with the other soldiers.

"Eh. Could have been worse. Could have fed you to the Catachans," Marcus replied with a devious grin.

"Oh fuck no," the Corporal groaned, "If even half the shit they say is true, then we would've been fucked."

"Acolyte, why are you so informal with the Guardsman?" Perra interrupted when she couldn't take it any longer.

"Because I see them as brothers in arms, Captain. They're here because like it or not, I took them from their homes and made their families believe them dead. They're here to keep me from dying. The least I could do is to be somewhat _less_ of a dick to them than I already have been."

"But, they're _Guardsmen_."

"And they're my _personal_ guard. All sixteen thousand of them, plus Commander Nishizumi and Dominatus. Got a problem with that, _Lady Captain_?"

Perra and the Acolyte faced each other, Perra smoldering with her lack of ability to do anything about the smug asshole, and Marcus with his arms crossed, waiting for her to do something.

The bridge had gone silent as the older and supposedly in charge Lady Captain grappled with the rage she was having difficulty hiding. Marcus kept his face impassive, knowing the slightest misstep here would damn the ship to civil war. One he knew he wouldn't survive. The battle lasted only a second.

"Of course not, m'lord. I sometimes forget they are your countrymen."

"Aye. See that you're more respectful of these Guardsmen from time to time. That will be all for that...Smurf Team is to be the RRT for the rescue operations, and have the op finished up within the next three days. I'll be in my personal quarters if you need me."

888

Two days later. Personal Quarters, Marcus Alexian Thol. _Pius Renegade_.

"Acknowledged. Show her in," he called absent mindedly into his desk's vox. After coming across the devastated Sororitas convent vessel in the middle of Emperor knows where, he'd ordered the op to be closed up soon, and with good reason.

The _real_ reason the Acolyte and his band of non-Ecclisarchy-sanctioned misfits was way out here in the boonies was to intercept a Tau supply convoy heading towards a campaign field that the Ultramarines had deemed worthy of their attention. With the destruction of even one of these ships, then the overall campaign for the subsector would be cut by a significant margin. How significant, Marcus didn't know. He wasn't actually there for the briefing, just word of mouth from Lady Veil.

So she had boiled it down thusly; the overall objective is to annihilate the dormant kroot shapers onboard their troop ships before they can enter a fight. Preferable conditions would be without alerting the xenos to the presence of the Imperial agents until their Enginarium went up in fiery plasmic explosion. Oh, and to not die in the process. Enough dead heroes or something like that.

Regardless, the Sororitas' discovery was...timely? No, it wasn't timely. It was fortunate. Was it? Perhaps. It IS worth noting the possibility of a new Tau anti-frigate weapon mounted on one of their larger vessels.

The chamber door to his private quarters opened effectively cutting off his train of though. Through the massive and semi-secret passage, a lone Sister of Battle entered, her armor freshly incensed, the holy anointing oils adding a glistening sheen to the battle-scarred plates. She stopped before his desk and came to attention, her face unreadable behind her black and white full face helm. The red eye pieces glowered menacingly beneath the golden outset of the Holy Fleur. She saluted with the sign of the Aquila and removed her helm, attaching it to her waist.

"Hail, Acolyte. You wished to see me?"

"Well met, Sister Superior. But I must ask where your squad is." he replied, standing up and making his way around the desk. He already knew the answer, but the Sister's answer would provide a wealth of information on her own psychological profile without him needing to use his gifts.

"They died before we hit the ground, Acolyte," she replied stiffly, her voice hard and cold as Void ice. Her eyes though, they burned with an unspoken hatred that Marcus knew only privileged ones raised in the bosom of the Emperor's grace could provide.

"You have my sympathies," he replied. _Passable_. His attention was then drawn to the only visible weapon on her; an ornate chainsword, still covered in gore. "Might I ask why you have no weapon besides your chainsword?"

"I lost the bolter I was issued when I fought against the bastard psyker who ambushed us. The weapons of my sisters were lost when he exploded in a warp-shift, and transported them into the very depths of the Warp." Her response was efficient and crisp, the Acolyte noted. _Definitely rehearsed._ But his own limited Warp prowess in that discipline could not detect any lies being told. That, coupled with her earlier, calm response was...unusual. But not in the heretical sense. There was something else going on here. _This one was left alive for a reason. But what was it? Fate perhaps? An example of the Emperor's Divine Mercy?_ he thought as he examined the stoic Sister. But at the current moment, his possible doubts didn't matter much. He had an operation to perform, and time was running out.

"Very well then. Report to the Enginarium for equipment check. Magos Roberts is expecting you. She will show you to the armory and you may equip yourself accordingly.," he said, pressing a few runes on his desk. "but before you go, let me explain our objective and what you'll do while you're here..."

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One hour and twenty-three minutes later

Kroot Transport ship designation "_Buyan_". What passes for an Enginarium

"Acolyte, we have to move!" Watch-Captain Davis Havelock roared, his power axe clearing away the closest rank of kroot.

"I know we have to move!" Marcus roared back, his twin plasma pistols vaporizing kroot as the vile xenos mercenaries tried to encircle them in the depths of Tau ship they'd boarded.

"And once more my suggestion to move at a more modest pace is ignored,'" Brother-Sergeant Tiberius James "Tibby" mocked as his gilded plasma gun burned through the kroot that the Captain's massive axe somehow missed.

"Thoroughly and completely" the Acolyte heard one of the other Astartes vox from across the room as the kroot launched another wave of carnivore squads. The Acolyte's ancient pistols were threatening to overheat from the constant use.

"Excellent shot, Fang." Havelock cleaved a kroot shaper in half with barely a conscious thought.

"Get a room already." Thol grunted. "How much longer until you're done Dak'ir?"

As he stood his ground in the entrance to the main Enginarium room. The Imperial Fist the rest of the Kill Team called "Ellie" was a meter to his left, his heavy bolter coughing .998 caliber bolter shells into the mass of xenos flesh. Despite the unwieldiness of the gun, every shot landed on xenos flesh and detonated, spraying more ichor and gore about the already drenched hallway.

In the middle of the massive space, the supporting members of the squad hunkered, a base of fire for the three outrigger battle pairs and guardians of the bomb being planted to the FTL drive of the troopship.

"At least five minutes!" voxed the massive Salamander. Standing at 3.2 meters tall outside of his armor, Dak'ir was a giant among giants to the extent that he had to have his armor custom fitted to him.

"It would do us all a _great_ service if you could hurry! The frack! Up!" the Acolyte roared back, vaporizing a trio of kroot that tried to flank him. More xenos plasma fire echoed down the halls as the Fire Caste began to tighten the noose and move in. Ellie's bolter barked thrice and a Fire Warrior went down in an uncohesive pile of gore.

The Lord Inquisitor Persus had enlisted (read bribed, wine'd and dined) Thol's help in a delicate matter, one concerning the Tau and their advances across the Calexis sector, towards Scintillion. Or rather, perhaps not. Perhaps it was the result of a rather interesting night involving an unholy amount of amnesac, a plasma generator, a techpriest, and loud obnoxious music. No, the Lord Inquisitor really did request Marcus' help in this matter. Her Ladyship was quite hungover when she sent him off.

"Perhaps I could help in some fashion, Brother?" James Damocles "Sparrow" inquired innocently as he fashioned makeshift barricades with his servo harness.

"Absolutely not!" Dak'ir barked.

"At least I am Mechanicus sanc-" the Blood Raven was interrupted by a simmering Salamander.

"I want to _keep_ my trappings, _thank you very much_," Dak'ir growled. The Blood Raven shut up and didn't press the matter further.

On the other side of the Enginarium, a large, furry and "slightly" drunk Astartes bellowed a battlecry while his compatriot swung a massive claymore in a crotch-high horizontal slash. Seven kroot didn't rise from the gore covered floor and five more lost balance and died underfoot of the onrushing wave behind them. These two were Skjarl Bloodmountain, "Fang" of the Space Wolves and Maximus, "Max", a Black Shield of the Deathwatch, respectively.

And in the middle, just behind the feverishly working Blood Raven, was the prone form of a wounded Raven Guard, under care of the Sanguinary Priest Medus. They called him "Doc", despite how much he made it clear that he hated the name.

More plasma fire erupted from the hallway, causing both Ellie and Marcus to roll out of the way. This break in the fire was what the kroot needed, leaping out from behind cover to charge the recovering Imperials.

Seeing a seething mass of hungry aliens, Thol quickly holstered one of his plasma pistols and drew his family's heirloom, a master crafted force sword, modeled after the warrior cultures of some obscure and lost to time planet off to the far galactic east, where the blades were slightly curved rearwards. He opened his mind to the powers of the Warp, after ensuring that his wards were in place. The Empryean poured through the psychoreactive conduits and into blade, where the psychic harmony multiplied his power tenfold, engulfing the blade in neon blue warpfyre. Then the kroot were upon them.

Ellie had managed to get back to his feet, only to drop his heavy bolter and pull out his chain sword, the motor roaring defiance as the horde crashed upon them. From behind, with a mighty roar, Eagle entered the fray, cleaving three kroot into a bloody smear on the deck with one mighty swing as more jumped in to avenge their brothers. Still more plasma fire erupted from the hallway. The Fire Warriors were closing in, and there wasn't any time left.

"Acolyte! We are in danger of being surrounded! We are not going to get away in time at this rate!" Tibby shouted into the vox feed.

"Yes we will! Spare a poor-" the ancient blade cackled with terrible energies as it cleaved through alien flesh, bone and weapon alike. "-Acolyte a little faith. I have a plan. But it can't go-" severed heads flew backwards, burning with unholy fire "-anywhere with that damn bomb out of place!"

"Working on it. The machine spirit is being testy. Another few minutes, then we will be finished here, correct?" Dak'ir asked. Marcus didn't reply. He was busy cleaving apart aliens.

To the ancient sword, it didn't matter what it cleaved through. It sung with power, and was being wielded by its righteous master. To say the machine spirit was pleased is an understatement. To the Inquisitor, while this wasn't the first time wielding the blade in combat, he wielded it like he had centuries of experience behind it, despite his young age. His mind and the machine spirit of the blade were one.

He remembered the tales his father regaled him, of how the blade, when the machine spirit was pleased, was an extension of his arm. Of how he could think, and the blade would move in kind. A marvel of the Great Crusade, still working to this day.

_fizzlepopsnapcrak_. Well, mostly working. The psycho-reactive coils weren't _quite_ properly aligned yet. It's what happens when you get a family heirloom that hasn't been properly used in millennia.

"By the Emprah!" Marcus raged, still swinging the marvelously less potent weapon at the onrushing kroot.

"Duck!" a feminine voice behind him commanded. Without hesitation, he hit the deck and rolled to one side. Behind him, Sister Superior Adreinne St. Claire opened up with her heavy flamer, kept in reserve for this very purpose.

"Am I the only one who thinks we're being surrounded?" she asked through clenched teeth as xenos flesh and bone turned to ash in milliseconds. Beside her, Marus re-holstered the useless sword and re-drew his other plasma pistol.

"No, you're not the only one," he said calmly as he shot star-stuff into chests, faces and appendages of the ghastly xenos carnivores, the blue plasma burning and obliterating whatever it touched. "And we will not fall this day. Not this day, not ever," he decreed.

And so they fought on. Droves upon droves of the vile xenos threw themselves at Kill Team Smurf, and were all repulsed with the Emperor's wholesale wrath, be it bolt, the edge of a blade or plasma blast.

Eagle was able to get himself up and duel with the fire warriors that tried to suppress his brethren. These duels ended with a large hole in the fire warrior's helmet. Always.

"Acolyte, I hate to bother you when you are busy, but this is quite important," Tibby voxed.

"Go ahead," Marcus replied with exasperation, as he nailed a kroot to the floor with a kick to the face.

"I am on my last charge pack. Would you happen to carry a few more?" was the innocent reply.

"I am low on ammo as well," was the general response from just about the entire Kill Team.

"Fuck. Well, alright, we'll be hauling ass as soon as Dak'ir quits fucking with that bomb" the Acolyte chastised the rather silent Salamander.

"Acolyte, do you want to come over here and explain to the machine spirit it is a bomb and not a grand cruiser?" Dak'ir asked sarcastically. Maybe. It's hard to tell with Astartes.

"I can!" Sparrow interjected energetically.

"No. We want the bomb to stay in place when it blows up, not inexplicably follow us," chastised Dak'ir.

Then, Sister St. Claire, at a bit of a loss as to what to do or say with the bickering Inquisitor and Astartes, found something to do. And so, as calmly as she could, began to sing a hymn to the Emperor.

"_When I was down and oh, my body so weary~ _

_When heresy came and my soul burdened be~_

_Then I was still and waited here in silence_

_Until You came and put blessings upon me~"_

The smell of cooked poultry wafted over the besieged Imperial troops. And it only served to drive the into more of a frenzy than before. Her voice was rich, strong and without a hint of fear. It echoed through the Enginarium of the kroot carrier. Thol recognized the melody, something his own mother used to sing, and one of his fondest memories of her.

_You raised me up, so I can tear down mountains._

_You raised me up, to walk on fiery seas. _

_I am strong, for I have Your blessing~._

_You raised me up to more than I could be. _

_You raised me up, so I can tear down mountains._

_You raised me up, to walk on fiery seas. _

_I am strong, for I have Your blessing~._

_You raised me up to more than I could be. _

_There is no life - no life without Your Presence,_

_Each restless heart beats for Your call,_

_And when You speak and I am filled with wonder_

_Each time, I know I glimpse eternity._

_You raised me up, so I can tear down mountains._

_You raised me up, to walk on fiery seas. _

_I am strong, for I have Your blessing~._

_You raised me up to more than I could be. _

_You raised me up, so I can tear down mountains._

_You raised me up, to walk on fiery seas. _

_I am strong, for I have Your blessing~._

_You raised me up to more than I could be. _

_You raised me up to more than I could be. _"

As if it were possible, the Astartes began to fight harder, more zealous in their smiting of His foes; especially when Father picked up the harmony line and joined the melee, his Cronzius flying in all directions, smashing the damned kroot carnivores apart. Then, one by one, the squad began to catch onto the simple hymn.

The kroot began to notice the odd tunes coming from the humans, and their advances grew less ferocious. In fact, it was so simple and catchy that the (relatively) new demolitions man forgot to pay attention to how long he set the timer for.

"Uh, Acolyte, we have a problem," Dak'ir rumbled, "I have the timer on a dead man switch. I will hold them off while you get the rest of the Team to safety."

"It will not work. This ship is too massive. When the plasma drives go, it will take out everything in several thousand kilometers. The Thunderhawk does not have enough shielding to ride or to even attempt to ride the shockwave," Sparrow quickly calculated.

"So what you're saying is we die here?" the Acolyte asked solemnly. He'd known he would die in the Emperor's service, but on one of his first solo missions? That's just embarrassing. The mission will be completed, but

"We die here," the Tech-Magos imbued Astartes confirmed.

"Father? A final benediction, if you please," the Inquisitor asked quietly, his words heavy upon his own mouth, his plasma pistol weighed down by an invisible force as he struggled to aim at the kroot onrushing.

Beside him, St. Claire was mumbling her own prayer to the Emperor

"I would be honored, " Father took a deep breath before bellowing into the great cavernous space above, "EMPEROR! YOUR HUMBLE SERVANTS AND YOUR SONS ARE CALLING UPON YOU IN THIS, OUR FINAL HOUR! LET OUR FINAL MOMENTS BE GLORIOUS AS WE SMITE OUR FOES IN ETERNAL DEFIANCE, FOR YOUR GLORY!

WE ARE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO OBLIVION, BUT IN A FIERY SACRIFICE TO YOUR MAGNIFICENCE! I ASK THAT YOU TAKE THESE, MY BROTHERS AND SISTER INTO YOUR CARE, THOSE WHO HAVE SERVED YOU FAITHFULLY THEIR ENTIRE LIVES, WHO ARE ABOUT TO DO THEIR FINAL DEEDS UPON THIS MATERIAL UNIVERSE! IN YOUR NAME WE PRAY! AVE IMPERATOR!" His words were punctuated with the 'squick' of pulping kroot.

"Do it," the Inquisitor said, even as Father's final words were still ringing in the xenos Enginarium. As one, they roared "AVE IMPERATOR!"

First, a small explosion, followed by the much larger sound of exploding plasma drives. Unknown to the Imperials or the Tau mercs, a silent and plotting entity had observed the engagement with much amusement and anticipation. It would not fail this time. No, this time, Marcus Alexian Thol would die. Then, the Acolyte, Sister Superior, and ten Astartes of Kill Team Smurf were swallowed by fiery...Warp?

888

2183\. Sol System, Earth orbit. SSV _Normandy_, Briefing room.

"Well, what about Shepard? Earthborn...but no record of his family," Ambassador Udina said.

"He didn't have one. Got raised on the streets by the gangs. Learned to look out for himself," replied Captain Anderson.

"He certainly proved himself in the Blitz. Held off pirate raiders on the ground until we got the 4th Fleet in there." Echoed Admiral Hackett.

"Held off? He's the only reason Elysium is still standing. If he didn't mount that counter attack that devastated their heavy weapon teams, the defensive wall would have fallen, and everyone behind it dead or enslaved," retorted Anderson.

"Well, we can't question his courage," the Ambassador said, trying to get the two military men from debating past battles. Again.

"It's obvious we need a symbol for humanity. Someone that'll stand up for what's right in the galaxy, even during the darkest of hours. And I think we should nominate Shepard. If he can't do it, then God help us," Anderson said with finality. Hackett voiced his agreement.

"I'll get the Council," Udina concluded. With that, two holographic projectors in the Normandy's Com room winked out as the two other members of Earth's Interstellar Legislature signed off.

++Download packet_2 Complete++

++Thought for the day: Prayer cleanses the soul, but pain cleanses the body++


	3. packet3

++Biometric scans complete, Homo Sapiens identified++

++Begin data dump to personal cogitator++

24 April 2183. Sol System, outbound to Arcturus Prime Relay. SSV _Normandy_.

Alliance Commander Michael Shepard, N7 Division, strode through the halls of the newest piece of gold to come from the Martian space docks: The SSV _Normandy_, the first true stealth frigate.

"The Arcturus Prime Relay is in range. Initiating transmission sequence" the pilot, a man named Joker called over the comm.

"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination."

Shepard rounded the Captain's station and walked up the walkway to the cockpit, still feeling a little uneasy with the design of the bridge. Just didn't sit quite right, but if the Turians swore by it, then it must have some merit.

"The relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector. All stations, secure for transit."

Shepard finally came upon the cockpit, and found Nihlus, the Council Spectre assigned to the mission, already waiting, watching the final approach to the Mass Relay station.

"The board is green. Approach run has begun."

Immediately, the ship turned and dove to level itself with the Mass Relay's prongs that would help guide the vessel on its cross galaxy voyage. Shepard almost reached out to grab onto the back of Joker's chair, before he remembered that the inertial dampers the Turians built were far superior to anything the Human Alliance could chalk out.

"Hitting the relay in..3...2...1"

The ship was soon surrounded in an electric blue cloud at the two Element Zero engines resonated and built up energy between the two. Then there was a massive, momentary feeling of extreme nausea and they were away.

"Thursters...check. Navigation...check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems are online and green across the board. Drift..just under fifteen-hundred K."

"Fifteen hundred is good. Your captain will be pleased," Nihlus said for the first time before walking away. Shepard tried to not look at the retreating back of the Spectre.

"I hate that guy," Joker commented after Nihlus was out of hearing range.

"Nihlus gave you a compliment, so you hate him?" Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko inquired from the co-pilot's position.

"Did you remember to zip your fly after using the head? That's nice. I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pin head. That's incredible!" he snarked back before calming down, "Besides, Spectres are trouble. I don't like having him aboard. Call me paranoid."

"You're paranoid. Since the Council helped fund this ship, they've a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment," Alenko retorted.

"Yeah, that's the official story. But only idiots believe the official story," Joker sniped.

"Well, Joker's got a point. Spectres aren't exactly the kind to send on a mere shakedown run," Shepard offered. Alenko looked at the commander with a hurt look on his face. The commander merely shrugged. It was true, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"So there's more going on than the Captain let on? Shocker," he quipped.

"Joker! Status report!" Captain Anderson's voice broke over the intra ship comm system suddenly, nearly scaring the poor helmsman half to death.

"We just cleared the mass relay, cap'n. Stealth systems are online and everything looks solid up here," he replied.

"Good. Find a comms bouy and link us into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to the Alliance brass before we reach Eden Prime."

"Aye aye Captain. And brace yourself sir, I think Nihlus is headed your way," Joker said.

"He's already here Lieutenant," the Captain deadpanned, "And tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the com room for a debriefing." With that, Anderson cut the comm.

"You get that, Commander?" Joker asked.

"Yeah, I'm on my way," he said and turned to leave. On his way out, he caught the two bickering a little more.

"Is it just me, or does the captain always sound pissed off?" Joker asked.

"Only when he's talking to you, Joker," Alenko shot back. Ouch. Even Shepard winced at that one.

Walking down the gangplank, Commander Shepard decided to stop by Navigator Pressley to check on the man's new station. He was the navigator of the first ship to come through the blockade and rescue Shepard's besieged forces. He was also the man whom Shepard bought drinks for, in honor of his timing, and the fallen. As he approached he heard Pressley saying something heated to another crewmate, who was nodding his head. Then Pressley looked behind him and noticed the Commander approaching. He turned around and saluted.

"Congratulations on the promotion, Commander," he said with a grin. Shepard grinned back.

"Thanks Pressley. How're we doing?" he asked.

"So far, we've had a smooth run. You're heading down to see the Captain, I take it?"

"Yeah, he wanted to see me, but right now, I'm more interested in what you were arguing about," Shepard said coolly, "Sounds like you're not the only one who doesn't agree with having our guest aboard."

"Sorry Commander, I was just having a chat with Chief Adams down in Engineering. I didn't mean to be so loud and cause trouble. But, yeah. Things just don't add up with this being a simple shakedown run. The feelings so thick you can cut the tension in the air with a knife."

"What are you thinking? The Alliance brass is holding something from us?"

"Yes. And there are two reasons why. Number one is Anderson. If this is a simple shakedown run, why is he the captain? The second is Nihlus. Yeah, the Council should send a rep to see the _Normandy_ off, but a Spectre? They're the kind you send to fix problems the size of invasion fleets, not on shakedown runs for a new frigate. Sure, I get why a Salarian Spectre might be here, observe the drive and what not, but a Turian Spectre? The kind that are known for kicking down regimes with a platoon of marines before breakfast?"

"The Spectre, yeah you're right on that one, but the captain. What's your deal with him? I haven't noticed anything wrong with him."

"There's nothing wrong with him, captain, but he's _here_. On the _Normandy_."

"...not following."

"You've heard of Captain Anderson before?"

"No, but considering the size of the Alliance Fleet, I'm not surprised I haven't."

"Ah, but is there another reason?"

"Wha-...wait. Is he N7?"

"Yeah. He's the most decorated N7 officer in the entire fleet, something they're not exactly willing to blast to the entire galaxy. But if he melted down all of his medals, he'd be able to make a life size statue of himself out of pure gold. Someone like that doesn't just get handed a do-nothing mission. And," he put up a halting finger to stop Shepard's next question. Shepard relented to his friend's judgement, "He's treating this too seriously. _That_ has me worried."

"Is is just Anderson?" Shepard asked. He'd taken a look at the weaponry that Nihlus was wearing casually around the ship. Not exactly peashooters.

"No. Nihlus looks like he's focused as well. And we've both seen that look before, haven't we?" Pressley was referring to the pre-battle mental state that veteran soldiers get themselves into, to calm their nerves and yet still be ready to fight at a moment's notice.

"Yeah, you're right, as usual Pressley. I'll see if I can get some answers from him when I talk to him, alright?" he asked. They shook hands, then both saluted.

"Until later Commander," Pressley said stoutly. Shepard smiled.

"Later Pressley." Continuing further along, he came to the ship's medical officer and the newest recruit to join the ship. The doctor had a negative look on her gently aged face as she was speaking with..what was his name again? The baby-faced Alliance Marine saluted as he walked up. It allowed Shepard to get a look at his name. Jenkins! That's it.

"What do you think commander? Are we going to be on Eden Prime long? I'm itching for some real action!" Yep. Definately a green marine.

"I do hope you're kidding, Corporal. Your kind of action ends with me patching up soldiers in the infirmary."

"Or worse. The doc's right Corporal. Only the foolish and the eager to die go looking for a fight. Are you either?" Shepard's questioning gaze looked genuine. He knew Jenkins wasn't an idiot, just inexperienced. Jenkins deflated.

"Sorry Commander, it's just that with a real Spectre on board, everyone's been tense. It's killing me!"

"It's alright. What do you know of Nihlus?"

"Not a lot. Turians are generally well-respected in the Council as a proud and militaristic race. They've got more patrols in Council space than any other. But, we don't get along with them very well; either too rigid in their beliefs of us suffering more for activating our relay, or blame for the First Contact War," the doctor explained for the poor Corporal, "But, personally, I haven't said more than two words him."

"What were they, doc?" Jenkins asked.

"Welcome aboard," she replied with a deadpan. "He usually only speaks with the captain."

"What about that rumor that Nihlus took down an entire army by himself? A lot of the Marines think he did that extremist group in on Exo V a year or so back."

"Its just scuttlebutt Corporal. But why are you so eager to get off Eden Prime, the most beautiful settlement in all of Human Space?" Shepard asked.

"I joined the Marines to get away from it, sir. Yes, it is the most beautiful place in all of Humanity's colonies, but its too boring, you know? It is a paradise, but I needed some action, something interesting to keep me from losing my mind. "

"Which makes sense, if you want to take a stealth frigate on a shakedown run," Shepard speculated. The other two nodded in agreement.

"Be one hell of an after party. Local booze's quite potent," Jenkins said. "But I can't keep calm, knowing there's a Spectre on board!"

"You'll do fine. This is just another day in the office Corporal," Shepard said. Jenkins almost scoffed.

"Easy for you to say. You stopped the Blitz! And this is my chance to prove myself to the higher ups!"

"Take it easy Corporal. You've got a long career ahead of you. Screwing it up now by doing something headstrong and idiotic will only make hell for you later on," Shepard warned. "Now if you'll both excuse me, the Captain is waiting."

Both of them saluted, and he returned it. "Just another day, Corporal." He said in passing. Shepard continued around to the comm room, just behind Jenkins and Doc. The room was large and circular, several display screens on the far wall with holographic projectors all around the room for in-depth tactical briefings.

There was also the red-armored bane of the ship's crew standing there, at something akin to parade rest. He turned around and seemed...pleased.

"Ah, Commander Shepard. I hoped you'd get here first. I wanted to speak with you," Nihlus said oily.

"What of?" Shepard asked in a firm voice as Nihlus began to pace in front of him.

"Eden Prime, actually. I've heard it's quite...beautiful."

"It's an exquisite paradise, they say," Shepard replied, thanking God for the conversation with Jenkins.

" 'They?' " Nihlus asked, eyebrows raised. Or what passed for them.

"I've never been there. Lack of terrorist activity and all, being humanity's most stable colony. you know, little things like that," Shepard said, the saccharine tone in his voice ringing clear and loud.

"Ah, yes. The proof that Humanity can not only make a stable colony, but can also protect it. But...how safe is it really?" Nihlus turned to face some screen images from Eden Prime from the Extranet.

"Are you threatening the colony, Spectre?" Shepard asked brazenly, anger flashing, and his hand slipping to his service pistol.

"The galaxy is a big place, Shepard. Is humanity _really_ ready for what they ask for? It's a dangerous place," Nihlus said again, in a similar tone as before, but slightly less threatening. Shepard was about to retort something nastier than last, but footsteps down the gangplank behind him signaled it was a bad idea to proceed. He turned and saluted the Captain as he came up, which was absent mindedly returned.

"I think the Commander can know now," the Captain said. Nihlus nodded his head.

"This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run," Nihlus said.

"Then the ship's scuttlebutt was right after all," Shepard said. He had no doubt that Pressley was right from the get-go. In their friendship, whenever something like a conspiracy came up, Pressley was the first one to say if it was right or not. And be right, no matter the case.

"Eden Prime is a covert pickup. That's why I'd like nobody to know we're there," Anderson said.

"You know I don't like being kept in the dark, Captain," Shepard growled slightly. Yes he was pissed. It was being kept in the dark that allowed Elysium to get hit by that pirate fleet.

"Yes, I know you don't but it was unavoidable. Believe me, Shepard. It comes straight from Alliance brass. Need to know," Anderson explained.

"Can you tell me anything of who we're picking up?" Shepard asked.

"Not a who. A what," Nihlus said.

"Alliance scientists unearthed a beacon on Eden Prime. Very old, well over 50,000 years. They identified it as Prothean."

"But what good will it do? Why the secrecy?" Shepard asked the obvious question.

"All of our technology is Prothean based. The mass relays, the Citadel, our ship drives, it all comes from what we've found leftover from the Protheans."

"But...still. The secrecy?"

"Last time we found something like this, it jumped our technology forward two hundred years. And that was a small repair facility on Mars. Imagine what we'd be able to recover with this, a beacon!"

"So why don't we just leave it on Eden Prime?"

"Because the only place with the necessary tech to get through the metal alloy the Protheans used is the Citadel."

"And this is bigger than just humanity, Commander. This discovery could affect every species in Citadel space," Nihlus interjected.

"Are you expecting trouble from this beacon, Nihlus?" Shepard asked. His tone was genuinely questioning and the Spectre saw it.

"I'm always expecting trouble. And so is the Council," Nihlus deadpanned.

"There's one more thing to note. Nihlus isn't here to just recover the beacon," Anderson said, "He's also here to evaluate you."

"Well that explains why I run into him everywhere. And a note, Nihlus, that time earlier in the head? Just really, _really_ creepy. I'm not entirely sure what Turians do, but its not what humans do," Shepard explained.

"Noted Shepard," Nihlus inclined his head in a little nod.

"The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time, Shepard. Humanity wants a larger role in interstellar policy. We want more say with the Council. And the Spectres are a good way to show that humanity is ready for a larger role. If you get accepted, you'll be a measure of how good humanity is to the galaxy."

"But why me?" Shepard asked, "I'm brand new to N7 and now you want to move me higher?"

"Yes. During the Blitz, you held off nominally three regular divisions of pirates with a reduced division of your own. In a city. But, by your own helmet cam of the incident, you have at least one hundred pirate kills confirmed. Not only are you a good tactician in the large arena, you're also a dirty brawler close in. That breach and clear of the house on Second street? The deadliest part of the entire battle. And you went in with only a squad," Nihlus explained (read lectured).

"I didn't come out with much left, either," Shepard growled, remembering the five men that died clearing that hell hole.

"No you didn't. But that's not what I'm talking about. You've got the skills that we're looking for," Nihlus shrugged, "Whenever someone like yourself pops up onto our scope, we are obliged to take a look. Even Spectres aren't invincible. That's why I put your name forward."

"Why would a Turian like yourself want a human in the Spectres?" Shepard was slightly dumbfounded. Was this the Nihlus he was talking to not five minutes earlier? Or was this a face?

"Not all Turians resent humanity. We see what your kind can offer the galaxy. Me? I see what they can offer the Spectres," Nihlus explained, "I have learned to look past race, Commander. I don't care that you're human. I only care if you can do the job or not."

After a moment's thought, Shepard turned to Anderson and asked "I'm assuming I've got your backing?"

"I speak for myself and the Alliance brass Shepard when I say 110%," Anderson said resolutely.

"Now, your impressive history doesn't automatically qualify you for the Spectres, Shepard. We'll be spending a few missions together so I can properly evaluate you," Nihlus explained. Shepard inwardly groaned and kept his face still. '_No! Not him! Anyone! Please! Dear God help!_'

"And this brings us to the mission at hand. Your primary objective is to secure the beacon and return it to the ship ASAP. You'll be leading a small ground team with Nihlus intervening only if necessary," Anderson said, slipping into his briefing stance. Shepard nodded as he planned out the men and equipment he'd need for the mission. But one thing was always a non-spoken rule of snatch and grab ops.

"Why is this beacon so important?" Always know as much about the target as possible.

"Namely that we don't know what it contains. If its a weapons cache instead of harmless building and starship data, then we don't want it falling into the wrong hands," Anderson explained.

"Who'd be likely to snatch it?" Second rule of snatch and grab: If possible, know as much about the people who'll be shooting at you as possible.

"The basic run-of-the-mill badly funded radicals and pirates looking to make a quick buck mostly. You took care of the major threat in the Attican Traverse, but its still on the border with the Terminus Systems," Anderson explained.

"But if the Terminus systems attack Eden Prime, it's an act of war," Shepard said.

"Yes, but risking war for a potential data cache of Prothean weapons? Just a test bed for their new toys. You know that as well as I do," Nihlus answered.

"We've got to keep this low-key. It'll be like the Blitz. Only more." Anderson said the magic words, and he knew it. Shepard was hooked.

"Just give the word Captain. That beacon is in safe hands," Shepard said with absolute conviction.

"Good. I knew we could count on you. Now then, we should be getting close to-"

"Captain! We've got a problem!" Joker interrupted on the intra-com.

"What is it Joker?"

"Distress call from Eden Prime...I really think you should see it, sir." His tone was grave. And no one found it good.

"Put it on screen, Joker" Captain Anderson ordered. After a moment's pause, the screen came to life with the distress call. Alliance Marines were fighting beneath a blood red sky, shooting at something off camera.

Then a booming and crashing noise came from off screen.

"Get down!" ordered the Gunnery Sergeant.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" the battle cry was so deep and resonant, the camera shook as monstrous humanoid figures clad in massive black armor charged out of the forest with _swords and axes drawn_. They hit the enemy, sending a few into view of the camera, things that were human once, but now were covered in blue circuitry.

"What the hell!?" cried one of the Alliance Marines.

"WE ARE THE BULWARK AGAINST ALL TERRORS!" The lightning blade of an axe flew through the air, followed by innards of...whatever those things were.

"WE ARE THE HOLY DEFENDERS OF HUMANITY!" A sword with _black_ _teeth_ danced across the screen.

"WE ARE HIS SPACE MARINES! WE ARE HIS ANGELS OF DEATH!" A roar of _something_ discharging was heard, and things flew through the air again, charred and burnt.

"AND WE SHALL KNOW NO FEAR!" In the background, a gigantic metallic hand crept out of the clouds. In the foreground, a gilded behemoth in pitch black armor with a metallic silver left arm decapitated a Geth shock trooper with a massive two-handed broad sword, quick and lithe.

"IN HIS NAME!"

"NONE SHALL ESCAPE HIS WRATH!"

The voices were similar, but eerily resonant, impossibly deep. With the camera's poorer audio pickup already being taxed by the sounds of battle, the booming of the voices made it impossible to tell which voice came from which figure, and then the screen went black.

"That's all Captain," Joker said.

"...what the hell _was_ that?" Anderson asked, utterly dumbfounded. "Joker, reverse and hold at 38.5" The screen snapped to the indicated position, where the metal hand was hanging above the warrior.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Captain," Shepard replied a little late to the question, "But which were you referring to? The giant metal shrimp, or the giants?"

"Either. Both. Pick one. Damn, this mission just got a lot more complicated..." he muttered and shook his head, "We'll be lucky if we don't get a seat on the Council."

"You're right about that. If those beings were indeed human, then we need to find out where they came from and put an end to it," Nihlus said darkly.

"I can tell you it wasn't any Alliance project," Anderson said defensively. Nihlus looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm cleared as high as it goes. Same with Shepard."

"Is this true, Commander?" Nihlus asked.

"Yes it's true. You don't get to be a commander in N7 without going through rigorous screening and the highest level security clearance," he answered. Nihlus nodded.

"Alright, I'll take this as a gesture of good will. If it comes to light that either of you are feeding me lies, I will make sure you are properly punished and humanity rescinded from the Council," Nihlus said.

"Joker! Status report!" Anderson barked.

"Sixteen minutes out, no other Alliance ships in the area, Captain."

"Take us in. Fast and quiet," he ordered and shut off the link.

"Well, that limits our options, doesn't it?" Shepard asked.

"Very...observant of you Commander," Nihlus breathed.

"I'm thinking you, me and two other operators should be small enough to get the beacon and get it onto the ship," Shepard said, thinking out loud, and ditching the ten others he had planned on bringing. As well as a lot of versatile equipment.

"Agreed. I'll grab my gear and meet you in the hold," Nihlus said and jogged off to his stateroom.

"Understood. Com'on. Let's get you and your team geared up for the drop. We'll be there soon," Anderson said, and led the way into the cargo bay, "Alenko! Jenkins! Suit up! You're going in with the commander!"

++ 0101000001100001011101010111001101100101++

?.?.M?

Inquisitor Marcus Thol awoke first among his team. They were scattered about a field, as if stuffed in a box and shaken out by a great hand. He also noted his weapons still in his hands and a massive headache, just like the ones he gets from exiting or entering the Warp.

"Strange, is this the Emperor's Paradise?" he wondered aloud. With that, he grunted and groaned and felt all of his appendages reporting green, no pain. He sat up quickly at this realization, and immediately regretted it. His head began to pound and his vision began to spin.

Not one to let biology to get the better of him, he forced himself to stand and check on the rest of the squad. First up was the one who he knew the biology of. And who couldn't perform essentially miracles with their physique.

As he made his way to the Sister in the knee high grass, he noted the sky was a blood red. Approvingly so, since in the Emperor's Paradise, His servants would join Him in battle against the foes of the Imperium long vanquished.

All the way across the field lay the Sister. She was turned onto her side, like a sleeping child, coddling with her heavy flamer. While an odd sight to comprehend, it wasn't exactly the oddest thing he's ever seen, but it made good accord of itself.

Kneeling beside the white armored Sister, he shook her awake none too gently. She awoke with a start and drew her inferno pistol in reflex. He smirked.

"Good to see you've not lost anything. Welcome to His Paradise," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. She took it and hauled herself up and looked around.

"Quite fitting, actually," she noted.

"My thoughts exactly. Come, collect your gear and see if the Astartes are awake yet," he said, walking towards the mounds of colored armor that denoted the resting places of the Astartes of Smurf Team.

The massively gilded form of the Brother-Captain was first among the Astartes. He wore the legendary Helm of Varthon, an Ultramarine's hero to earn his claim to fame in service to the Long Watch.

"What's that?" the Sister pointed to a particularly large mound of powered Astartes-pattern armor. Something looked to be peeking out from beneath the armor.

"Not sure. Check on the Astartes, I'll look into this," Thol ordered, and tested the Warp. It was calm. The violent malevolence that inspired awe, terror and revolt was no more. Here, it was calm. Calm as the air on a tomb world. Calm as a meditating Astartes. Just as the Emperor would want it; perfectly safe for humans to use without fear.

He drew upon the powers that had set him apart from the rest of humanity and felt the armor of the Astartes laying on the object. He felt the power being generated, their dual heart beats, the slowed breathing of sleeping humans, and he pulled. He pulled up, straight up and out. Tons of ceremite and adamantium were moved less-than-gently out of his way and before him sat a box.

A box he immediately recognized.

"What in the Warp is this doing here?!" he bellowed, more in surprise than anything. It was the Astartes' gear box from on board the _Renegade_.

"What is it, Inquisitor?" the Sister called while she checked the Captain's vitals.

"It's the gear box from the _Renegade_. Did one of the Astartes take it with them?" he asked her.

"No. We'd have seen it if one did," she replied. He paused and opened it. Inside was exactly what he'd expected to find: a few mementos of the Chapters, some trappings, even a few items of blessed and revered wargear. Well, it's not like it wasn't an _un_welcome gift. As the Inquisitor's temper returned to normal, he realized that this would bolster the morale of the Astartes even more than it normally was.

"How's the Captain?"

"Surprisingly enough, he'll make it," she deadpanned. He looked over and shot her a bored look.

"No shit. He's not missing half of everything vital. I'd be surprised if he just keeled over," the Inquisitor deadpanned back, shutting the lid on the box. "Can you wake him?"

"No I can't. If the rest are like him, then we can only wait until they're on a shallow part of their sleep cycle to wake them. That's in thirty minutes, before you ask," she said, anticipating the next, quite obvious question.

"Alright. I'll get them moved closer together. Go check the perimeter of this clearing. Even if this is the Emperor's Paradise, we might still have to prove ourselves worthy of His presence." The Sister nodded, grabbed her heavy flamer and strode off towards the tree line.

Marcus turned back to the pile of armor he just volunteered himself to clean up and organize. Well, could the Sister really, feasibly do it? No, not really. Steeling his mind for another venture into the Warp, he called forth the powers of the Immaterium and began to move the limp bodies about.

Twenty-eight minutes later, the Sister returned, and began to wake the Astartes. They have everyone present and accounted for, the Brother-Captain, the Brother-Sergeant, the two Techmarines, the Sanguinary Priest, the Scout-Sergeant, the Chaplin, the Devastator, the Assault, the Tactical Marine, plus himself and the Sister. And that gear box.

The two (relatively) normal humans went about the neatly organized rows of power armor and began to wake the Astartes, one at a time. After laboring for fifteen minutes, they had all of them awakened and they were milling about, re-checking gear that had already been checked five times, and field stripping their weapons to give them a cleaning under the watchful eye of Dak'ir.

Captain Havelock walked over to the Inquisitor, who was watching the spectacle with a thousand meter stare. He knew what that look meant.

"Thoughts Inquisitor?" the Ultramarine asked.

"We're in the Emperor's Paradise, that much is certain," the Inquisitor said and gestured to the environment, "Look about us, it's perfect for killing heretics, mutants and xenos. And the warp is calm as a still lake."

"And...?"

"And yet, nothing has attacked us. Nothing. No one has even come to greet us. Seems...a little odd," the Inquisitor said after a moment's hesitation.

"But is this not the Emperor's Paradise?"

"Well, obvi-...oh. No one knows what to expect because no one's ever come back from His paradise. Damn. Well, that's one of the reasons I keep you around Captain," the Inquisitor said with a tiny speck gratitude evident in his voice.

"Good to know I am needed." The ancient warrior retorted.

"Anytime, Captain..." Thol trailed off. The Captain knew that look, and could practically see the gears turning inside the complex mind.

"Orders?" he asked.

"Get set to roll out as soon as I find a large concentration of humans..." blue warpstuff began to come from beneath the Inquisitor's closed eyes.

"Roger that. We will be ready when you are." And with that, the Captain gladly gave the Inquisitor space to do what he needed to do.

As the Astartes left his immediate vicinity, Marcus repeated his training mantra, focusing his will to monomolecular sharpness and pierced the Warp, delving himself in otherworldly powers and extending his sight.

He looked about for humans. Any humans. And he found them. Fighting for their lives. And they looked like Guardsmen, but...too different. There were no blocky lasguns, but elegantly curved rapid fire guns spitting blue projectiles, not red las bolts. Something was up. Their uniforms were more...well produced that the average Guardsman's, but the major shock was when the Inquisitor realized there was a complete lack of any Imperial insignia.

"...by the Emperor..." he whispered. But this was the Emperor's Paradise! Having humans without the Holy Aquila of His Holy Imperium was heresy! But then another thought struck him. Could this be part of a test? IS this a test at all? Regardless, humans were in danger, and as such, he was duty bound to do something. He returned to his body and released his grip on the Warp.

"Alright, Inquisitor?" Sister St. Claire asked from behind him.

"Peachy. We've got our heading. Humans are in trouble, some sort of rogue servitor attack," he said.

"Humans? That's all you can sense, Inquisitor?" Eagle asked. He didn't like going into battle with little information.

"Well, they're too short to be Astartes, they're not carrying any type of lasgun I can recognize and they're wearing formfitting carapace armor. Looks…like the Eldar had a hand in this…" the Inquisitor's voice dropped low as he realized what he spoke of: _heresy_.

"Which direction?" The Captain asked over the vox link.

"That way," the Inquisitor pointed, "About two kilometers."

"Copy that. We will give support. Element one out," the Captain signed off, already designating that the Team would be split into two elements. At an unspoken command, the Captain, Fang, Max, and Father broke into a flat out run and barreled through the dense forests. The rest of the squad began to move at a more human pace, still little more than a calm jog for them, while the Inquisitor and Sister were sprinting. Unfortunately, Thol knew he wouldn't have been able to keep his legs moving for so long, trying to match the massive stride of an Astartes.

"Contact!" the Captain bellowed.

"Take down all hostiles! No survivors! Keep those PDF alive!" the Inquisitor shouted back then turned to the smirking (even though he couldn't see it, it didn't take a psyker to know it) Dark Angel, still sprinting.

"Say nothing to anyone" he growled onto the all-hands vox circuit as Rex scooped him up and planted him on his back, latched to his backpack. Eagle had maneuvered himself (somehow without anyone noticing) next to St. Claire and mimicked Rex's motion of scooping up a normal human and attached her to his backpack.

"To glory in His Name!" Marcus shouted, and it was repeated by the rest of the Team as they picked up speed and stopped at something more akin to a flat out run towards the gory melee they were missing out on.

++Thought for the day: Without Him, there is nothing worth living for++

++Data transfer packet_3 complete++


	4. packet4

++Biometric scans complete, Homo Sapiens identified++

++Begin data dump to personal cogitator++

?.?.M? Emperor's Paradise. 2 kilometers from insertion point. Smurf Team Element Alpha.

It was over by the time that the rear guard caught up with the Captain and his half of the team. The horde that was attacking the Guardsmen were dead and dismembered, their innards covering a grinning Captain Havelock, Father, Max and Skjarl. The Inquisitor jumped off the back of Rex and ignored the questioning look that Havelock's tilted helmet indicated.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" cried Skjarl in his post battle release, and the grin slowly faded away, his face now looking a more dowry scowl with the arrival of a second Dark Angel.

"...woah..." breathed one of the few remaining troopers, "that...was the most amazing thing I've ever seen..."

"If you want to see more, you should answer my questions, trooper," Marcus said with absolute authority, striding over with the Sister right behind him, helmet clasped to her hip and heavy flamer pointed at them.

"What the hell is _that_?" a soldier asked and pointed to the Sister's weapon. The sister scoffed.

"What, this? It's a heavy flamer, of course. The Emperor doesn't let you boys play with the big guns?" she smirked. "It's cause He saves it for those who can _handle_ the big guns."

"Emperor? Who's that" Thol's eyes grew wide (for a fraction of a second) with realization of what the trooper just asked, and the response necessary. Another test.

"The Emperor is everything that Mankind should strive to be. He gave his humanity to be interred upon the Golden Throne, thus protecting us from the minions of the Warp, and their terrible gods. "

"...who?" the soldiers looked unbelieving still. As if it weren't enough. OH THE HERESY! Thol's desire to execute the heretical humans was such that he had to physically restrain his right hand from dropping down to the butt of his plasma pistol.

"Inquisitor?" the Sister asked.

"Fine," he grumped back before addressing the survivors again, "Who is in charge here?"

"I am. Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams. Who am I addressing?" the sole remaining female in the small group stood a little taller and casually strolled up to Smurf Team.

"You are addressing Inquisitor Marcus Thol, Ordo Xenos and commander of Kill-Team Smurf," Thol stated proudly and loudly. The troops behind the sergeant began to snigger. HERESY!

"Sergeant, you will control your men. To laugh at the name of a Deathwatch Kill Team and their Inquisitor is...punishable by summary execution," Thol allowed his errant hand to finally grasp the butt of the pistol and calmly draw it, ready to snap fire it at any of these Guardsmen if needed. He doubted it. With his extra senses, he could feel the adamantium tension that was a battle-prepped Astartes. That also meant they already had firing lines established and targets chosen, bolters up.

"WOAH! Just because they laugh at a name like 'Smurf' is NOT any damn good reason to just execute someone! Only a tribunal can authorize an execution!" the errant sergeant said, stepping between her men and the Inquisitor.

"No, it's long been established that an Inquisitor can authorize an execution. It's well within the powers of the Inquisition," he explained with force behind his voice. That force had shattered the wills of Planetary Governors, errant Lord-Generals and a few newer Inquisitors.

"No. Its. Not. Right," she said, just as forcefully. So be it then.

"End them, leave the sergeant," he said simply over the vox. The Astartes complied, bolters barking only once as they ended the unfortunate troopers' lives. They died messily as the mass reactive rounds easily punched through their body armor and pulped their chests and heads, showering the horror-struck sergeant with gore.

That horror turned to rage and anger and she charged the Inquisitor. He calmly drew his de-activated power sword and side stepped her rage induced charge. With a low cross sweep of the blunt edge of the sword, he took her legs out from under her, causing her to fall into Rex's arms. Doc was on her immediately, slapping Deadlock and silver Mechanicus-pattern locking cloth on her wrists. She hardly struggled, for the paralyzing effect of the drug kicked in immediately, and she went limp. Rex slung her over one shoulder like a rocket launcher, and stood patiently for the Inquisitor's next orders.

"Search the area, clear it of witnesses. Pile and burn the evidence, Sister, Fang, Eagle." Marcus said without emotion, having done this hundreds of times.

"Copy" they acknowledged and carried out their orders.

"While they're doing that, I suggest we head further inland, towards that city, see if we can't find anything useful," the Inquisitor said. Brother-Captain Havelock nodded and gestured to Smurf Team's remaining personal. They formed a wedge with Ellie on point and moved in the direction of the city.

"Do you think the Inquisitor was too hard on the Guardsmen?" the Sister asked as she raked her heavy flamer across the pile of human pasta. The two Astartes having finished clearing the surrounding structures, finding nothing of value and two more witnesses to dispose of, stood behind her, eying the surroundings for anything that might try and end them.

"For once, I thought he was too lenient on that sergeant. She should join her comrades in death," Eagle said quietly but with the utmost conviction, "Disobeying the Inquisition's order is one thing, but utterly denying altogether? Heresy." He shook his head at the thought.

"Kevak, you are the last one I'd think to be discussing what heresy is and isn't," Fang joked.

"Oh? Why is that, Furball?" The Raven Guard said in an equally joking manner.

"You. Raven Guard. Heresy," Fang shrugged, "I found it funny."

"At least my Chapter's doctrine doesn't include being a perpetually drunk inbred imbecile," Kron mumbled just loud enough for the Space Wolf to hear.

"Grrrrr..." the (admittedly) rather barbaric Astartes growled at him.

"You're even growling like a damn wolf," Eagle suppressed the urge to laugh, but the mirth was shameless in his voice and continued on. "Look to yourself to find the greatest source of contrition," the black armored Astartes said in a mystical voice. The Space Wolf didn't stop growling and giving the Raven Guard a glare that would petrify an Ork, but the Raven Guard had faced more terrifying things alone. And killed it without breaking too much of a sweat. The recent kills had their skulls hanging above his bunk onboard the _Renegade_.

"Make that grox-shit up yourself?" Fang asked skeptically.

"No, actually. I read it in the Inquisitor's Librarium. It was written by a rather wise Rune Priest of your Chapter, Njal Stormcaller," he said with an aloofness that added to the fury of the Space Wolf. Out-maneuvered. Again. And Eagle knew it. The giant among Astartes cursed the name of Kevak Kron, Eagle, and the Raven Guard as they moved to rejoin the Inquisitor and the rest of Smurf Team.

Seeing his mate in an obvious state of utter frustration, Kevak Kron shut down his external vox and laughed, getting it out of his system before it bit him in the ass again. Once he was done, St. Claire opened a channel.

"You were laughing just now, weren't you?" she demanded quietly.

"I am an Astartes. What do you think?" he rumbled in reply, playing up the stoic Defender of Humanity without a touch of Humanity Left that most people saw Astartes for.

"In my professional opinion? Skjarl's still seething. In fact, if he breathes any harder, he'll give himself an aneurysm. And you're not helping." she remarked.

"I am not an Apothecary. What is an 'aneurysm'?"

"In its most base form? A blood vessel exploding somewhere on the body. In his case, it'll probably be in the brain."

"I thought your previous specality was of the Ordo Dialogus?" Kevak asked.

"It was, but that didn't mean that I didn't have to provide the most basic service a Soritas can offer humanity from time to time. Or extended periods of time," she replied, her mind taking her back to the battle-torn and scarred worlds upon which she served as a translator for a Sisters Hospitaler unit that was assisting the Imperial Guard in their campaigns. She shook those memories off. Those memories were not important. _What is important is rejoining the Inquisitor and finding a way off this planet and rejoining the Emperor. _

++ 0101000001100001011101010111001101100101++

2183\. Eden Prime, high atmosphere. SSV _Normandy_, Cargo Bay.

"Engaging stealth systems," Joker narrated as he brought the _Normandy_ into Eden Prime's atmosphere just like he wanted, fast, quiet and low. Oh and stealthy. Don't forget stealthy.

The cloud layer of Eden Prime was blood red, something not covered in the briefings. Even Jenkins was taken aback when the cargo bay doors first opened.

"Not something you remember, Corporal?" Shepard yelled over the roar of the winds as Joker plunged the _Normandy_ deeper into the atmosphere.

"Not even close, Commander! There's definitely something weird going on!" he shouted back.

Anderson and Nihlus joined them then, Nihlus casting sidelong glances at Shepard and his team.

"Shepard! Nihlus'll scout for you. He'll be dropped off and take the high route to the camp, scouting the way. You'll be dropped on the lower slopes and go in hard," Anderson shouted over the winds.

"It's the only way the Marines go in sir!" Jenkins shouted, an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"Easy, Corporal, remember our conversation?!" Shepard yelled back.

"What about survivors?" Alenko spoke up for the first time. Shepard didn't know a whole lot about the man, but heard he was handy with a gun in a firefight, so for now he'd trust him.

"Helping survivors is secondary to the beacon!" Anderson roared back.

"Approaching drop point one!" Joker called. The ship slowed and flared as it came in for a drop off. Nihlus gave a half-salute and jumped out the bay doors. Shepard saw him land with grace and take off for the tree line, sniper rifle in hand. Joker took the ship away to try and conceal the position of the Spectre, and made for Shepard's insertion point.

"Good luck Shepard! We're counting on you!" Anderson called.

"Approaching drop point two!" The ship flared again. Shepard looked. The ground was covered in large rocks jutting from the ground. Easily able to hide a man. Good cover in a firefight. But it wouldn't be taken at range, would it? Said a voice in the back of his head.

"Go, go, go!" Shepard repeated the mantra that all military NCO's and field CO's had perfected since time immemorial. The team jumped out into the field without a second thought.

The landing was soft, being only a few meters off the ground. Or rather, as soft as it could be. It jarred Shepard as he tucked and rolled to bleed of momentum. As he came out of the roll, he drew his side arm, a reflex honed while roof jumping on Elysium.

"Perimeter secure," Alenko reported. Shepard stood and switched to his assault rifle. Alenko and Jenkins were a little ways away from him. Jenkins didn't put his rifle down. Good.

"Alright, the dig site should be further down the crevice. Nihlus, are you live?" Shepard asked, then cursed for using Alliance slang.

"I'm in position, if that's what you're asking," the Turian replied.

"See anything?"

"Just a pile of dead robots. Seems our friends have been through here," Nihlus reported, "What's the human expression for disbelief? By Jesus?"

"Usually 'Oh my God'," Shepard replied, "Why?"

"There's oil and parts everywhere. Like you would not believe," was the reply.

"We're moving down the crevice now," Shepard motioned to the team and they fanned out in a wedge formation behind the Commander and moved down the crevice. True to his word, there were robots everywhere. Dead ones. Most were rather messily dismembered, save a few with holes burnt clean through. And the foot prints. Lots of large, heavy tracks.

Shepard knelt and took a look at the tracks. "Oh my God...Nihlus, I'd say you were right about our friends. Can you move up?"

"Already moving. Don't worry about me. I'm evaluating you, after all," Nihlus said.

"Alright. Jenkins, move up 15 meters to my 10. Alenko, my 2," Shepard ordered. The crevice widened up, and the reverse wedge should give them the ability to catch whatever came at them in a hell of a crossfire.

"Commander I've got movement," Jenkins said, peering from behind a rock.

"Can you ID it?" Shepard asked, holding absolutely still to try and find the movement.

"No, but it-AAAAAHHHH" Gun fire erupted as three flying drones came hurtling down the crevice and annihilated the first thing they saw: Jenkins.

"No! You bastards!" Shepard roared, tearing into the attackers with the rifle, heedless of cover or his weapon overheating. Alenko managed to down one of them.

As the last drone hit the ground, Shepard called "Cover me!" and ran for Jenkins. Alenko could only comply. He knew that look. Shepard wasn't going to be reachable for a while yet.

"Jenkins?" Shepard asked loudly, shaking the dead trooper. No response. Just as he feared.

"Damn it," he muttered. The radio crackled.

"Commander, everything alright?" Nilhus asked.

"No, Jenkins is down. I'm marking his position for retrieval and burial later," Shepard said, removing an IR beacon. "Continuing the mission,"

"Copy that. The dig site is vacant ahead. I'm moving on," Nihlus reported.

"Acknowledged" Shepard shut off the channel and turned to Alenko.

"He'll get a burial later, but we need to focus on the mission at hand, alright lieutenant?" he asked.

"Aye, aye Commander," Alenko nodded. Shepard stood and pointed down the crevice.

"Nihlus reports that the way is clear, but we're to take no chances, understand?" Alenko nodded. "Alright, then we'll move in echelon right. Move out."

As the duo moved down the crevice, it was littered with more dead robots, and more footprints. Soon, they came to the dig site, where the video was obviously taken. Shepard turned to the south and recognized the skyline. The massive tracks, massively dead robots and large objects overturned and thrown about like playthings.

"Our giant friends were here, there's no question about it," Shepard muttered.

"You say something Commander?" Alenko asked.

"Yeah. What did Anderson tell you about this mission?" Shepard asked as they walked through the circular site.

"Not much, that we had to retrieve a Prothean beacon and something may have happened to the research team and their guards. Everything I've seen so far agrees with that. Why?" he asked.

"See these tracks?" Shepard gestured to the massive prints everywhere.

"Yeah...kinda hard to miss, with all due respect," Alenko replied.

"There was a few more details Anderson should have told you," Shepard began as they continued through the site, looking for anything that could look like a beacon."Oh, did he mention how big this thing was?"

"Nope."

"Fablous."

"You were saying about the other details?"

"Right. There were these robots, attacking Alliance Marines, right? Then this gunney says 'Get down' and this crashing noise comes from the woods, just over there," Shepard pointed to the massive wake of destruction coming from the woods."And these large, heavily armored, what appeared to be _humans_ come out of fucking nowhere with _swords and axes_ and tear into the robots. Bodies go everywhere, some chant about an 'emperor' or what not, and then shot of a giant metal shrimp then black."

"...what the fuck? Sir." Alenko asked in disbelief.

"That was our reaction as well, lieutenant," Shepard said with a tired sigh. "But whatever they were, they're well armored and armed, if their weapons go through these things like butter. Find anything?"

"No, nothing. But damn, butter?" Alenko took a closer look at the disemboweled robots with a new found respect. "Shit. Sure looks like it. Hell of a clean cut."

"Alright, the beacon's obviously not here. Let's move into the camp, they might have moved it," Shepard said as he walked up an earthen ramp to the scientist's camp proper. Something hit him then. Not something physical, but more subtle, if you can call the smell of charred flesh subtle.

"Oh God!" he breathed. Alenko was by him in a minute and suffered the same fate.

"Jesus Christ!" he whispered hoarsely, both of them shutting their suits to the outside and purging the air inside."Is that what I think it is, Commander?"Alenko was pointing to a smoldering black pile by one of the pre-fab quarters.

"I think it is, lieutenant. Whatever killed these scientists..." Shepard took a closer look at something that looked relatively shiny. He grabbed it and yanked. Bones and charred flesh flaked and fell, but the object came loose. It was an assault rifle, Alliance standard issue.

"Not scientists. Marines," Alenko took the words right out of Shepard's head.

"Shepard, come in. This is Nihlus, over." The radio cackled.

"Nihlus, we're at the dig site. Completely empty. Pile of Alliance Marines. Burned, probably to try and hide evidence. No sign of the beacon," Shepard reported.

"This isn't good, Shepard. I've found a small spaceport just northwest of your position. Meet me there and we'll plan further. Scour the area once more, just to be sure. Nihlus out," Nihlus signed off. Shepard turned to Alenko after checking the coordinates Nihlus gave him.

"Alright, we're meeting Nihlus in a spaceport about half a klick northwest from here. Let's give the camp a once over before we move on, alright?" Shepard said. Alenko nodded and they split up. Some of the pre-fabs had their doors kicked in. Shepard peeked inside and saw gore splattered on three walls, the ceiling and the floor. God, it looked like three people bled to death in here. He felt bile rising, but pushed it down. This was not the time.

"Find anything Alenko?" Shepard asked through clenched teeth.

"Nada. You?"

"Blood and gore. Lots of it," was his equally strained reply, and Shepard stepped back out. He didn't want to go in there.

"Ready to continue, sir?" Alenko asked gently.

"Give me a minute. Not that well with blood," Shepard said through deep breaths.

"How did you make it through Elysium then, sir?" Alenko asked.

"Starved myself and only threw up when there was a lull in the battle. Wasn't pretty," Shepard replied. Then a sharp crack split the air. Shepard jolted up.

"Nihlus... Alenko, we're oscar mike! Move!" Shepard was up and moving, thoughts of what he had seen relegated to the back of his mind. Now he had to link up with Nihlus and get the beacon. Hopefully he'll avoid those monstrous creatures that killed the Marines. He couldn't call on the _Normandy_ for back up. Wait. Could he?

"_Normandy_, this is Commander Shepard. Come in, over," Shepard called. Nada. Right, the stealth mechanisms. No radio in or out. Damn. He turned his jog into a flat out sprint and made for the port, following the tracks and the horrendously rising body count.

They came to the space port in short order, a mess of debris still aflame and scattered dead. The warriors hadn't been here, as the robots patrolling the area were upright and still in one piece. In fact, they were still able to fire their weapons.

"Take cover!" Shepard shouted needlessly. Alenko was already under cover putting rounds into the robots.

"Way ahead of ya!" he shouted back, taking down two robots. "Three more coming down the stairs!"

Shepard took them down with several well placed bursts from his assault rifle. Again.

"Any more?" he asked. They scanned the area for anyone else that might possibly be alive, but didn't see any.

"No, I think we got them all..." Alenko said hesitantly, sweeping the area still.

"Alright, then cover me," Shepard ordered. He took a relaxing breath, and vaulted the rock he was taking cover behind. He did a quick take on the field, and took cover in the stair well leading up to the platform.

"See anything?" he asked.

"Nope, you're clear," Alenko reported. "Cover me?"

"Go!" Shepard barked as he rose up and out of cover. As Alenko dashed over to his side, Shepard noticed the lack of movement. A disturbing lack of movement.

"Still seeing nothing Alenko?" Shepard asked.

"Aye. Not even a sensor flash."

"Alright, cover me. We're moving up to the coordinates. Let's see if we can't get Nihlus' opinion on this."

"Copy that. On your move," Alenko nodded.

"Move." Shepard lead the way once more, moving a little slower than Alenko would have preferred, but the commander _was_ the Hero of Elysium after all. The platform that Nihlus had indicated was empty, save for a body half tucked into a corner, blood spattered on the wall behind it. As they drew closer, the awful truth became clearer.

"..Nihlus.." Alenko said cautiously. Shepard ducked low and rolled the body over. Yes, Alenko's deduction was right. The Turian Spectre was indeed deader that a doornail.

"Aw...FUCK!" Shepard growled and took a deep breath. "Alright Alenko, this mission just got a lot more dangerous. Check around, see if you can find something to give us an id-" something moved from behind some crates stacked in the corner of the platform, toppling the top one over. Alenko snap fired his pistol. The round hit less than an inch from the face of a terrified dock worker who stood with his hands held high in the air. The stench of urine then filled the air.

Shepard rose and walked over to the worker, lowering his rifle but not putting it away. "That's a damn good way to get yourself killed," he growled.

"Sorry, sorry," the worker said, putting his hands down "I heard voices and I nearly leapt up. You're the first I've seen since the Geth arrived. Are they all gone?"

"Yeah, we're working on that little problem," Shepard said. "What do you know about the attack? Anything with large armored humanoid figures?"

"What? Humanoid? The only thing large and humanoid were the Geth Primes I saw move that thing the scientists dug up."

"Are you sure?" Shepard pressed.

"Absolutely. Look, why are you so interested in these things anyways?"

Shepard toyed with the idea of telling him to go fuck himself. "That Turian over there was an up and coming Spectre. Who is now dead. On a human world. Can you do math?"

"Yes, I can do the math. But I am fairly certain it wasn't these...whatever the hell you're chasing. It was another Turian. I think his name was Saren."

"Saren?" Alenko asked.

"Anderson mentioned him a week or so back. Some asshole of a Turian that hates humans. Legendary Spectre to boot," Shepard narrated.

"And you're sure he killed Nihlus?" Alenko asked.

"Absolutely. They were talking for a minute or two, then Saren just pulled out a gun and shot him in the head."

"Okay. That's one objective, but what about the thing the scientists dug up?" Shepard asked.

"That? These Geth Primes moved it...uh...thataway," the worker pointed deeper into the city.

"Alright, noted," Shepard said, making recordings of the man's testimony for later review. "But what about your own survival? We haven't met up with another human survivor yet."

"I..uh...was hiding behind the crates," he explained sheepishly.

"Why is there no one else with them?" he asked skeptically.

"...because I was already here when the attack started..." he muttered. Shepard's eyes went cold.

"You were lazy, slunk off to bullshit around and...!" he caught himself mid rant. "Never mind. What matters right now is that you did survive to tell us what you knew about that meeting. But let this be a lesson to you," Shepard growled. "Alenko, we're moving. Put a beacon on the body for retrieval."

"Aye commander," Alenko pulled out an IR beacon and put the little object in one of the Spectre's many pockets.

"Okay, now all that's left is to get that beacon and call the mission done," he muttered to himself. "Alenko! You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. After you commander," he said. With that, Shepard led the way deeper into the city of the dead.

++Thought for the Day: The Emperor bestowed upon us the gift of intolerance++

++Data transfer packet_4 complete++


	5. packet5

++Biometric scans complete, Homo Sapiens identified++

++Begin data dump to personal cogitator++

?.?.M?. Emperor's Paradise(?). 5 kilometers from insertion point. Smurf Team.

The going began to get harder, but being Astartes, the challenge was welcomed to relieve the unspoked boredom that had settled among them. Tougher terrain, more hostiles, and larger ones. The first time they stumbled across some of the larger models, Smurf was crossing into the urbanized zone proper, and not the wilderness they had been moving through. They came to a plaza, with them on the bottom level, and a large group of robots on the upper levels.

"Contact!" Ellie barked, and immediately settled himself into a shooting stance, his knees bent and the heavy weapon slung by his calf.

"Open fire!" Thol ordered, snap firing his pistols at the advancing groups of servitors. They looked genuinely surprised to see humans alive and shooting and half of them were cut down before anything significant happened. Bolters barked, plasma weapons roared, and St. Claire's inferno pistol blazed through the armor of the servitors with absolute ease.

When the servitors began to return fire, it was coordinated as only a noosphere enabled mind would be able to coordinate. Then large black and yellow armored units began to move up and opened fire with larger railguns.

"Take them down!" Havelock commanded, and marked targets for each squad member. Ellie's heavy bolter barked, and those with ammo left took up positions next to him, becoming one concentrated wall of fire.

The heavy gun servitors were taken apart in a hail of mass-reactive shells and hot fiery plasma before they could fire a single shot. Three died this way, then none more came.

The Kill Team stood rigid, looking for movement, looking for the enemy to show themselves. At Havelock's silent hand movement, Smurf dispersed and advanced, looking for the cowardly servitors. Nothing.

Havelock nodded and turned to the Inquisitor, who in turn, nodded. The Kill Team was his again.

"Ammo status?" he asked.

"About three hundred left," Ellie said.

"Twenty shots left," Father said.

"Same," Doc said.

All told, most of the Astartes were "forced" to wield their melee weapons, save for Eagle and Ellie. St. Claire hadn't used up much of her holy promethium, as most of the servitors hadn't closed to the heavy flamer's rather short range. Yet. Marcus gave the order, and the Kill Team moved out.

The Inquisitor marched his Kill Team hard, for a human. Sister St. Claire was visibly winded, and struggling to carry her heavy flamer. The Astartes paid her no mind. If she wanted help, she'd ask for it. Thol knew that as well, and his subconscious was tugging at the back of his mind to slow down. But he wanted answers.

Answers to questions about the architecture. It wasn't Imperial, or any flavor thereof, that was for sure. It was too bright, too hopeful to be Imperial. And too curvy. But he knew where he'd seen things like this before. Tau space. And the Tau were known to have human supplicants, but their armor was drastically different to what the unconscious sergeant wore. And the human traitors still had lasguns. Not...whatever in the Emperor's name Sparrow was ogling and taking apart at the moment.

"Sparrow, find anything useful?" Thol asked, breaking the silence as the party advanced down an empty causeway.

"Yes actually. This uses something akin to a Tau railgun, but it is not Tau design. It carves off a piece of metal from a main 'magazine' if you will, and accelerates it down the length of the barrel with hexamagneto coils powered by direct contact nodes with an outside power source, quite likely in these suits," The magos explained, pointing to circular nodes on the unconscious soldier's armored gloves.

"Translation?" Havelock asked.

"It uses essentially heretical technology to power it, and emulates Tau weaponry. Nowhere near as powerful though, correct, Sparrow?" St. Claire asked, a little breathless.

"Yes, very good Sister Superior," Sparrow said with a little bit of pride. She'd been asking him on the way to the kroot carrier how to better take care of her weapons in the field now that she was part of a Kill Team.

"That doesn't seem like a worry. Anything we should worry about, Sparrow?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Well, if this were to be scaled up to...the same caliber as Ellie's heavy bolter, then we are going to have armor shredding, and some penetration," was the reply. Ellie looked at the bore of his heavy bolter for the first time, noting just how _big_ it was. And shrugged.

"Still smaller than an autocannon," he said simply. The others nodded. Traitor guardsmen had claimed Astartes lives quite easily with autocannons.

"How's the 'guest' doing?" Thol asked with a smirk.

"Still out cold," Rex said, shifting the body to a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

"Should be out for another three hours," Doc interjected.

"Good, we'll be in a camp of some sort by then," the Inquisitor decreed. Suddenly a sharp crack pierced the air.

"Hostiles!" Eagle cried, and the entire Team took up all around firing positions, out of pure reflex.

"Direction?" Havelock asked.

"South of us!" Eagle said again, and peeked out. Nothing hit him, and nothing moved either. _The servitors must be taking cover._ "Appears clear. Advise caution."

"Noted. Rex, take Fang and Eagle. Go find the source of that shot and kill it," Thol ordered.

"Ave Imperator, Inquisitor," Rex said in acknowledgement. He passed the limp body over to Ellie, who gestured for him to just slump her on the top of his ammo pack.

"In His Name," Thol replied as they darted away, leaping over one another in a bounding advance. Once they were away, Marcus turned to the rest of the Kill Team.

"Magos, take a reading on the auspex and see if you can find some transportation, out of here," Marcus ordered.

"But that should be impossible, Inquisitor. This is the Emperor's Paradise, they wouldn't have transportation out of here," Havelock said on a private vox channel.

"Exactly Brother-Captain. If there is transportation, then this is not the Emperor's Paradise."

"You doubt?" The ancient warrior asked tensely.

"I always doubt, Brother Captain. It is my duty to question the unquestionable. I may be adept at purging xenos, but I was a fair witch hunter as well. Over a tall one of that promethium substrate that Fang brews," Thol promised.

"Inquisitor, I am picking up...something. The machine spirit is not liking whatever it is and I cannot calm it," Sparrow announced. To anyone but the Inquisitor, he would have sounded absolutely calm.

"Which direction is the reading coming from?" Thol asked, drawing a pistol.

"The same direction that you send Rex, Inquisitor," Sparrow reported.

"Alright, then we're going in after them. They'll just act as our vanguard and alert us if they get to it before we do. Ready? Move!" Kill Team Smurf was on the hunt again. And this time, like the times before it, and as a sign of things to come; it would get blood. Xenos blood.

Farther up, Eagle held up a clenched fist, and the two other Astartes took cover.

"What is it Eagle?" Rex asked cautiously.

"Movement, two hundred meters. More of those servitors we fought earlier. And they are not alone. There's some...bird thing over there. Too tall to be a kroot, but it looks like them," Eagle reported monotone.

"A demon of Tzeentch?" Rex asked.

"Negative, no wings and single head. Carrying what appears to be a pistol."

"Guards?"

"Not much, we took out more at the ruins. Servitors have not noticed our presence yet."

"Hmm...Take the high ground and see if you can push them our way. We will trap them in a crossfire. How copy?"

"Crystal. Moving."

It took a minute for Eagle to get into position, aided by his climbing gear and magboots. In the meantime, Rex and Skjarl were preparing their positions. As in they picked a spot roughly Astartes sized, and dove in. There would be glory in the Emperor's name, but patience must be observed first to ensure you do not become a martyr. That would be bad. Mostly because the Inquisitor would have their hides if they did die.

The Raven Guard went silent. Several minutes passed and nothing was heard of the Raven. Rex's calming litanies began to fail him.

"Eagle, did you fall off your perch?" he asked tensely. Eagle grunted and sent him a live feed from his helmet pict-recorder.

He was looking down the scope of Eagle's exquisite rifle, the Long Talon of the Raven. The scope was a masterpiece of archeotech that fed Eagle ballistic, windage, gravitic and other measurements to tell him where to shoot. And it highlighted the selected target, to keep track when not looking down the scope.

"Sergeant, what am I seeing here?" Rex asked.

"The avian is moving down the causeway, armed guards and something being towed behind them. Shall I give them a welcome?" Eagle reported.

"Negative, wait for my sign-" the vox beeped. "Yes, Inquisitor?"

"We're moving up. What's the situation?" Eagle's icon on Rex's HUD began to flash for permission to fire.

"Getting warmed up. Targets are in striking position now, we are engaging," he broadcast that to the entire squad, and Eagle took the shot. Time slowed as Eagle triggered his distortion field, and squeezed the trigger. In slightly faster motion, the avian turned and stared straight at Eagle before easily side stepping the shot.

Time resumed as normal, and Eagle was in the Astartes kind of shock. A target moved out of his shot line! He roared with fury and clipped the adhesive end of the climbing rope to the roof and jumped off, holstering his bolter and equipping his claws. There would be blood spilled in retribution.

Rex barely had time to register what was going on as Eagle threw himself off the building, but with the shot being taken, he had no choice but to follow his fellow Astartes into combat. Skjarl was already moving, his frost blade cackling with force energies.

"Charge!" Rex roared, and charged the avian. A small part of his brain wondered why Eagle didn't take it out, but he'd ask him later, once everything here was dead.

The metallic silver colored creature eyed the onrushing Astartes with mild curiosity, then gestured with a hand. The ground rumbled, but Rex and Skjarl charged on. They hit the pack of hostiles like a cleaver before meat, easily carving their way through the thin skinned servitors with laughable weapons.

Skjarl was enjoying himself immensely. The entire reason he became an Assault-specalist was because of his mastery with a sword. None in his village could best him, but one of the massive wolves could. And did. That's when the Sky Gods came and rescued him, and now...well...he's not entirely sure how to take this. But for the moment, heavy thinking is not needed, only slicing and dicing.

And did he dice. _Night Fury_ tore into the metal bodies with a true Space Wolf's vigor and hunger for bloodshed. It relished in the movements and in the smooth kills that Skjarl made. The spinning, diving, gyrating, all of it remembered in his massive muscles as his mind mapped out the next kill in the blink of an eye. Arms, legs, heads. They all flew in directions that Skjarl didn't care about, so long as it meant the thing they were once attached to was dead.

Ealge was also enjoying himself, as much as his righteous fury could allow him. The beautiful engine of destruction that was his bolter rifle spat the mass-reactives with incredible accuracy, the kind only available to a centuries old sniper. Eagle grinned as he squeezed the trigger for the fourth time.

"Boom," he whispered quietly, also for the fourth time. "Headshot." Then the avian turned to him and a shadow descended over the Scout Sergeant. "By the Emperor..."

++ 0101000001100001011101010111001101100101++

Shepard and Alenko were just coming to terms with Nihlus being dead when they heard the firefight begin. Loud and inaudible and almost not understandable cries were heard, and Shepard sprinted from the street corner they were resting at. Alenko needed no urging, dashed off with Shepard to the maelstrom that was rapidly dwindling even as they closed the distance. Over the din, a loud DAKKA echoed through the dead city. Then another. Then another.

As they drew ever closer, the ground began to shake and rumble. Shepard was thrown off balance as the massive metal shrimp rose into view about two hundred meters distant, amid the rubble of the colony. The Geth had to be escaping with the beacon.

"Move! Don't let them get away!" Shepard commanded, forcing himself faster than he thought possible. Alenko followed on his heels, forgoing trying to bring up the assault rifle for just trying to keep up with the commander.

At long last, they came to the plaza directly beneath the ship. The noises of combat (read "one sided slaughter") were ferociously loud. The Alliance soldiers edged along the wall, weapons at the ready. Shepard reached the corner and peeked out, wondering who was getting slaughtered. What he saw would stay with him for the remainder of his life.

Large armored humans armed with _SWORDS_ were _CHARGING_ the Geth that were being dropped directly from the ship. And they were yelling. One of them, dressed in the uniform armor but with a grey shoulder pad and garbed in massive wolf-like pelts was fucking _howling like a wolf_ while hacking apart Geth with a blackened blue bladed sword. With nasty looking teeth on it.

"You know what Alenko?" Shepard asked, drawing back from the corner.

"What is it commander? What's out there?"

"Not now. It's been an honor, incase either of us dies," Shepard said flatly.

"That bad sir?" Alenko asked timidly.

"Well...the _good_ news is that they're shooting the Geth. So let's see if we can't lend a hand. On three, ready?" Shepard deflected.

"On you."

"One...two...THREE!" Shepard yelled and leapt from cover. He sighted up on the nearest Geth soldier and put it down in a burst of gunfire.

The massive armored soldiers inclined their heads towards the new arrivals for a mere second before continuing their rampage through the Geth infantry. By this time, the ship had realized that it was necessary to just dump everything onto the ground, landing platoons of Geth as fast as it could. And still the synthetics were losing ground.

And among the chaos, Shepard caught sight of a large object being slowly moved towards the ship.

"Alenko! Focus fire over there! They're moving the beacon!" Shepard commanded. Alenko Nodded and brought a hand out in front of him, concentrating on the eezio he could feel in his blood. Taking a deep breath, he thrust outwards, his will manifesting itself as a large and damaging push that knocked down a lot of the Geth around the beacon.

Shepard had already pulled out his sniper rifle and dropped to one knee when Alenko knocked down the Geth. He sucked in a breath and fired. The bullet tore through the primary leg servo of the leading Geth Prime, sending the metal beast sprawling to the ground, the other Prime dropping its end to avoid damaging the beacon further.

"IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, TO BATTLE!" a rather human voice shouted from across the plaza. The shout caught both Alliance soldiers off guard, and nearly gaped with they saw a man wearing a tattered black leather long coat duel wielding pistols, running towards the melee, followed close behind by a woman in white ornate armor carrying some large and ungainly object. They, in turn, were being followed by more of the large armored humans, one of which was wearing a gaudy yellow shoulder pad, carrying something similar in size to the weapon the woman held, but had a pink blob on the top of his backpack.

But Shepard hardly paid the blob little mind. At seeing all the colors being thrown at him right now, pink wasn't too far from what he'd expect. He needed a drink.

The man in the long coat blazed away with his pistols, blue plasma(?) melting holes through two or three Geth at a time. The woman charged practically into the midst of the Geth before she opened fire. FWWWWOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHH. Two gouts of flame melded into a single awe-inspiring burst of vengeance, stealing the oxygen for meters around as the sticky flame caught onto the surfaces of the synthetic warriors.

Against any conventional flame it would have been a moot point. Dangers of fire onboard ships and vehicles was one of the things that the Quarians designed against. But against this flame, the metallic flesh was no match. Components fused together instantaneously, the flesh melted and dripped onto the ground, damaging components on the way down. Dozens of the dwindling Geth went up in the singular gout, screeching and bleating in alarm as the burned.

The robed man seemed to run out of ammunition for his pistols, for he holstered the pair in a rage visible from fifty meters away, and drew a black sword that began to cackle with blue energy. The hairs on Shepard's neck stood on end. Something wasn't right.

The man paused with the sword in hand for a mere second, but in that second, the blade flashed with terrible (yes, his innate sense could tell him that much about what was going on) energies and he became a dark neon blue blur across the Geth. Where he went, Geth wailed in dying screeches. They parted before the pair like water before a sailing ship's prow.

Seeing that the one tough to win fight had become impossible, the captain sent down the last remaining Geth units and flared the thrusters, taking the shrimp out and away from the firepower being brought against it. This wasn't worth the cost of his ship.

As the vessel rocketed away, Shepard began to approach the group. They had now met up, one of their armored number leaping off a five story building as if it were nothing. The robed man sheathed his sword and turned to the group. The woman was standing a pace behind him and off to one side. The one draped in wolf pelts let out a blood curdling battle cry, one last time, before visibly relaxing.

Before the man stood an armored figure, his helmet more ornate than anything Shepard saw on the others. Three wore green armor. One of those wore an ornate white robe around his armor. But that's not all Shepard recognized. Atop the one in yellow, the missing Gunnery Sergeant lay, unconscious by some means. Shepard suddenly put two and two together. _They did it. They killed those marines back there, and she burned the bodies...who the hell are these people?_

++Thought for the Day: A single thought of heresy can blight a lifetime of faithful service++

++Data transfer packet_5 complete++


End file.
